Bartley was a small village off the beaten path with no direct road access. At least not yet. I was working on getting an access road created through the woods from the highway utility road. But working with city government and the West Virginia Department of Highway Management wasn’t exactly a speedy process. Until then, the only way to get to the village was to park in the clearing created from the abandoned Crane Creek mining operation, walk the path through the Avondale Forest, and cross the bridge into the village.
After parking my car, I grabbed my medical bag and a second smaller duffle bag from the back. Catching sight of the “BackwoodsDoc.org” sticker on my car’s back window, I paused for a moment. When my father created the organization over two decades ago, I never imagined I would be taking over for him, but I think he did. I think it was his plan all along, so much so that he even included it in his will. I reached out and gently touched the sticker with my fingertips. I love you, Dad.
After locking the car and tucking my keys securely into a side pocket in the duffle, I picked up the bags, placed them over my head, and crossed them over my body, resting one on each hip. I gently tucked my wireless headphones into my ears, reminding myself again what a good investment they were. More than once, I had gotten bruised when the wires of my earphones would snag on my bag, the car, branches, or whatever seemed to get within a yard of me and yank them out of my ears. Checking my Fitbit, I touched the screen on my phone to start my walking playlist. If I’m going to have to walk to get there, I may as well make the best of it.
After walking the path through Avondale forest for several minutes, I stood still and admired the beauty around me. I turned off my music, removed my ear buds, and listened to the sounds of nature. The wind rustling the leaves on the trees. The birds singing. Branches cracking in the distance. It was calming, and a wonderful change from the noise of the city.
As I continued walking, I made a mental note to take a moment and listen to the forest sounds more often. It made me wonder what my Dad did while he made this walk every week. I wondered how he passed the time. What he thought of. I chuckled when I realized he probably thought about football or sang one of his silly country songs as he made his way through the woods. I could hear him singing “The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia” to the squirrels and the birds.
That’s the night that the lights went out in Georgia. The lyrics popped in my head.
“Great!” I laughed. “Now that song’s going to be stuck in my head all day.”
Arriving at the bridge, I tucked my phone and ear buds into a zipper pocket on my medical bag. I enjoyed visiting the people of the village probably as much as they enjoyed having me.
“Hey!” Looking down at the part of the bridge in front of my feet, I called out excitedly. “Someone fixed the broken boards!” I smiled. Seeing even the smallest progress in the village warmed my heart.
I looked up and saw several of the village’s children running toward the other end of the bridge. Wow! They are growing so fast!
I unzipped the top of the blue duffle halfway and pulled out several Ziploc bags. I love this part. The urge to smile overcame me, and I couldn’t hide my excitement. The children gathered around me as I greeted each of them, commenting on how wonderful they looked, how I missed them, and handing them a Ziploc bag.
Each bag contained a box of raisins, granola bar, pen, pencil, small notebook, small package of tissues, new toothbrush, small tube of toothpaste, dental floss, and a package of sugarless gum. I added different items to the bags depending on whether the bag was for a young boy, young girl, or a teenager. This time, for the younger kids it was either a Matchbox car or a small Powerpuff doll, and the teens received both deodorant and a prepaid cellphone gift card. I’d made sure that the parents and teens all had prepaid cell phones when I first took over for my Dad fourteen months ago.
The smiles on their faces and hugs received when I handed them their care packages reminded me that all those miles and all those steps were more than worth it.
I made my rounds, treating forty-seven of the one hundred and ninety-two people of Bartley. Most were minor injuries, follow ups to remove stitches or clean and dress wounds. Each of my patients was appreciative and offered me something as a thank you. Money. A homemade item. Food. I never accepted the money as I was compensated through some of their insurance and the grants my father had set up for the organization. The homemade items would many times end up in my bag anyway. And the food I would usually accept and eat throughout my visit. It’s a good thing I can walk off all those calories on the way back to my car.
As I did with every visit to Bartley, I saved my favorite patient for last.
“Hey, Nana,” I said. I knocked a few times and pushed the door open, walking into the small house.
“Well, hello there darlin’,” she said, pointing the remote at the television to turn off whatever program she was watching. “I was wonderin’ when you was gonna get to me.” Nana Kay was a seventy-eight years young, slightly overweight, with high blood pressure, diabetes, and the key to my heart. I first met her when I visited Bartley with my father when I was teenager. He had asked me to come along, and while I was reluctant, I honestly believe spending that day with my father is what helped me decide to become a doctor. It didn’t take long until I was asking my father to join him, which thrilled him to no end.
I pulled both bags off my shoulders and gently tossed them on the floor in the center of the room and then sat on her faded suede couch. Leaning back, I looked at her and smiled.
“It’s getting a little crazy out there, Nana,” I said, laughing.
“They all love the days you’re here,” she said. “The ones leading up to your visits are full of nothing but buzzing about you. Maybe you outta just move here. You know we all love ya.”
“That’s sweet, Nana, thank you. And while I do love coming here, moving here is not an option. I still have my job at the hospital in the city, too. Remember?” Nana Kay nodded and shooed me with her hand. “It just seems that more people are needing me. I think I need to do a bit more teaching, so I don’t have to do so much treating.”
“Just be sure to dumb it down, she laughed. You know ain’t none of them very smart.”
“I’ll remember that.” I grabbed the bottle of water from the side pocket of my medical bag, took a few chugs, and placed it on the end table beside the couch. “Okay, let’s see how you’re doing.” I knelt in front of Nana Kay, put on a pair of latex gloves, and reached for my supplies. I paused when I heard rustling in the kitchen.
“Nana,” I turned to look toward the kitchen doorway. “Is someone here?” Nana Kay raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips. I leaned in closer. “Is it someone you want here,” I whispered.
“Of course, she wants me here.” A giant knot formed in my stomach as I heard a familiar male voice drift from the kitchen. “I’m her grandson. She loves me. Don’t you Nana?”
Warren walked out of the kitchen and stood behind Nana Kay’s chair, draped his arm over the back and placed his hand on her shoulder. Nana Kay reached up, grabbed his hand, and kissed his fingers.
“Oh, don’t be silly,” she said. “You know I love ya. You’re my baby boy and I’m glad you’re here.” I could see by the look in her eyes and the big smile on her face that she was truly happy that Warren was home. Sadly, I couldn’t say the same.
“So,” Warren said, his eyes locking onto mine. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
‘Fuck you’ was the only thing that came to mind, but I didn’t dare say it, at least not out loud.
Fuck you, Warren!
Chapter Two
I felt the nerves in my body becoming overstimulated, beginning to tingle, overfiring. I pulled my gaze from Warren and threw a glare at Nana Kay.
“Nana,” I said through gritted teeth. “Why didn’t you tell me Warren was home?”
“I told her not to,” Warren moved around the chair and took a step toward me. I pushed myself to a
standing position and backed away slightly. “Nana told me you were still treating her so I made her promise not to say anything. I wanted to surprise you.”
“Well,” I said, looking down at the floor. “You did that. It sure was a surprise.” And not a good one.
It had been two years, and three months since I had last laid eyes on Warren. But now, as he stood in front of me, it felt as if it were only yesterday we were spending all our free time together, declaring our love for one another, making plans for our future together. But then, he was gone, and our dreams vanished in his wake.
“Can I talk to you?” I asked. “Alone. In the kitchen.” I smiled at Nana Kay as I made my way past her oversized arm and rounded the corner to the part of the kitchen where I knew she couldn’t see me. I turned around and Warren had followed me into the room.
“What are you doing here?” I pulled the latex gloves off my hand so hard and fast that it popped back and snapped the palm of my hand. I sucked in my lip and bit down to hide the quick tinge of pain.
“Well, technically,” he said, tucking is hands in his pockets and leaning on the door jam, “I still live here.”
“You haven’t lived here in two years,” I snapped. I took a breath to try to calm myself. Even though it had been two years since I laid eyes on him, seeing him now seemed to stir up all the feelings of anger and hurt that had been resting dormant just under the surface. “What I meant to say was –”
“I know what you meant.” He pushed himself off the wooden frame and took a step towards me, retreating, I quickly moved backwards to the sink, turned my back to him, and began washing my hands. “I know it’s been a long time, but I never stopped thinking about you, missing you, loving you.”
“You have some nerve.” I whispered. I stared out the small window over the sink into the small patch of grass that Nana Kay proudly called her backyard. She even saved all her change from her trips to the grocery store to pay one of the local boys to take care of it for her. They earned every penny, as they had to use her old-fashioned push mower to do it.
Closing my eyes, I could feel Warren behind me. The feel of his breath on my neck, the light touch of his fingers on my waist. My mind took me to a place, a place where time didn’t matter, a place where I could pretend he hadn’t shattered my heart into a thousand pieces.
I imagined Warren turning me around, grabbing me by the wrist and spinning me to face him. Putting one hand on each side of my blouse, he pulled hard, popping the buttons off, sending them to all corners of the kitchen. I imagined him reaching behind me, cupping my ass with both hands and lifting me from the floor, gently placing me on the kitchen counter as he –
“Rose?” Warren’s voice interrupted my erotic daydream. “Rose, are you okay?”
“Sorry, I was just thinking.” I pushed my way past him to the far counter and grabbed a paper towel to dry my hands. My eyes glanced at the counter and, as the image from my daydream reappeared, a warmth washed over me, rushing down my chest, over my stomach, and flowing through my panties. Don’t do this to me, Warren. Please.
“So, can you just tell me why you’re here? Please?” I turned and leaned against the counter, folding my arms over my chest.
“Mainly because I finally got Nana to admit to me how bad things were with her,” he said, imitating my stance as he leaned against the sink.
“And the rest?” I shifted my feet and pulled the claw clasp out of my hair, letting it fall around my shoulders.
“The rest is a long story and work related,” he smirked, chortled, and shook his head. “Maybe I could take you to lunch tomorrow and tell you all about it?”
“I don’t …” I glanced to my left to see Nana Kay sitting in her chair in the living room. She was giving me a death glare over the top of her glasses. I knew if I said no without a damn good reason – which I didn’t have – I would never hear the end of it. “Lunch.” Nana Kay smiled and turned her attention back to Michael Simon and her favorite afternoon show, The Chew. My head snapped as I turned to look at Warren. “We can do lunch.” Warren smiled, and I could see his resemblance to Nana Kay. “But that doesn’t mean that I’m not still really, really pissed at you.”
Warren put his hands up as if I were holding him at gunpoint. “Oh no,” he said. “I totally get that.” I could hear the phone buzzing in his pocket. “So, I’ll get your number from Nana and text you a place and time. Does that sound okay?” I shook my head and watched his hand as it slid into his pocket. My eyes gravitated to his crotch and my breath hitched to the memories of his body. “You okay?” He asked, snapping me, once again, out of my sweet escape.
“Yes,” I snapped. “I’m fine. Just text me.” I spun around on my heels and moved back to the living room to finally begin treating Nana. I moved my bag from the couch to the floor beside her bandaged wrapped foot and knelt next to her.
“So,” I said, a little louder than normal to make sure Warren heard me. “How’s the pain today?”
Nana Kay leaned over, putting her head only a few inches from mine. “It’s a little better now I know you twos are going out to lunch,” she said, giggling.
“Nana Kay, stop it.” I said, shaking my head. “Just because we’re going to lunch doesn’t mean I’m going to forgive him.”
“Maybe not,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “But you gotta start somewhere.”
I chuckled and began my treatment on her foot. Glancing toward the kitchen, I caught sight of Warren pacing the floor, cell phone to his ear. Pulling his hand out of his pocket, I saw something fall to the floor and Warren bent over to pick it up. He had a great ass. He always had a great ass and great arms and a great … Fuck! I know where I’d like to start.
Chapter Three
As I left Nana Kay’s house, a man ran up to me with a look of urgency in his eyes. It was Donald. I didn’t know him well but had seen him around the town. “You have to help my son,” Donald said. His voice sounded urgent, fearful, desperate. “Please. You have to help him.”
“Yes, of course,” I said. “Where is he?” Donald grabbed my wrist and pulled me along to a small house a short distance away. He pushed the door open and we hurried inside. On the far side of the small dingy room was a young boy lying on a ragged, sheet-covered couch. Bloody paper towels covered his forearm but did little to contain the bleeding. The floor beneath his arm was speckled with bright red dots of blood.
“Hi,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm and comforting. “You’re Matthew, right?”
“Matthew, yes,” the father said. He nervously wrung his hands. “How’d you know that?”
I glanced over my shoulder, reached up, and gently placed my hand on top of the Donald’s. “It’s a small town, Donald,” I said. “There are very few people I don’t know.”
“Oh, yeah,” He said. He tucked his hands in his pockets. “Right.” A nervous chuckle escaped his throat.
“Hi, Matthew. I’m Rose. I’m a doctor. Can you tell me how old you are?”
“Fourteen,” Matthew said. He winced. His voice is raspy and low. “I turned fourteen last month.”
“Well, happy belated birthday!”
“Thank you.” One side of Matthew’s mouth turned up slightly, as if he was attempting to offer me a smile.
“Is it okay if I examine you? Check out your wound, take your temperature, blood pressure, all that kind of stuff.” I reached in my bag and pulled out a disposable hospital pad and positioned it over the blood drops. Placing my bag on top of the pad, I began looking for the supplies I needed. “I promise I won’t do anything that hurts or is uncomfortable without telling you first. Deal?” I donned a pair of green latex gloves.
Matthew nodded his head. “I’m his father,” Donald said, stepping into my view. “I give you permission. Do whatever you need to do. Just fix my son.”
“Donald,” I spoke softly, placing the ear tips of the stethoscope into my ears. “You may be his father, but it is still Matthew’s body. If he doesn’t want
me touching him, I’m not going to touch him. I need his permission. Understand?”
Donald and I looked at each other. Donald crossed his arms in front of his chest, nodded and took a step back.
I began my exam, placed the diaphragm on Matthew’s chest, listening carefully to his heart and lungs. I took his temperature. Looked at his eyes. His throat. And then I moved my attention to his arm.
“This might sting a bit,” I said. “But I need to take these paper towels off so I can clean it off to get a better look, okay?” Matthew clenched the sheet covering the couch in his other hand as I slowly pulled the blood-soaked paper towels from his skin. Exposing the wound, I saw tears in his skin, in two large arcs, one on top of his arm, one on the underside. On each arc were two puncture marks and equal distance apart. I grabbed some gauze and an ample of saline from my bag and washed off the wound.
“It’s a bite mark,” I said. I looked up at Matthew. His eyes were scrunched tight. “This looks like some kind of bite, an animal bite. Like a big dog.” I inspected the wound further. “A really big dog.” I looked over the bite pattern on the wound. There was an odd pattern in the teeth marks. There, on the bottom set of teeth was a double tooth imprint. I took a picture of the wound with my cell phone hoping maybe it would help to identify the animal once it was caught.
“It was,” Matthew said. He groaned, winced, and sucked air through his clenched teeth as I wiped the wound again. The bleeding had slowed but hadn’t stopped. “At least I think it was.”
“So, what happened?” I hoped talking about the incident would take his mind off the pain as I cleaned and dressed the wound.
“I was fishing at the lake and lost track of time,” Matthew slowly opened his eyes, looking up at the ceiling.
Moonlight Mist: A Limited Edition Collection of Fantasy & Paranormal) Page 7
